


Bloody Knuckles

by hollyblue2



Series: one thousand and ninety-four days ‘verse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Inmate!Cas, M/M, Pain Kink, Prison AU, Rough Sex, Wall Sex, bottom!Dean, dubcon, getting caught, inmate!dean, mild blood kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 18:19:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13909590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyblue2/pseuds/hollyblue2
Summary: They are the last two in the laundry room. Washing machines and dryers rumbling away, almost deafening. Dean busies himself folding orange jumpsuits and keeping an eye on Castiel. The man has been propositioning him for sex more and more often and Dean’s ass is paying for it.





	Bloody Knuckles

**Author's Note:**

> So Hartless and I had a chat... and this happened... and also the outline for Part 4 happened... so have this.... enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> Beta'd by _tobythewise_ and _pavidcas_

They are the last two in the laundry room. Washing machines and dryers rumbling away, almost deafening. Dean busies himself folding orange jumpsuits and keeping an eye on Castiel. The man has been propositioning him for sex more and more often and Dean’s ass is paying for it.

Just one moment he takes his eye off the man and Castiel’s behind him, hands sliding into his pocket and a growing hardness rutting against his already tender ass.

Pocketed hands grope his cock and Dean squirms, hands faltering on the orange material.

“Cas... stop...” Dean warns. They’ve been caught having sex while working before and they both paid for it in solitary confinement. Granted both of them came out horny as ever but Dean was wary of being caught again.

“I just want to have some fun.” Castiel whispers in his ear, breath hot against his neck.

Dean elbows him away successfully and carries on with his job, just as well when a guard comes past and gives them both the stink eye.

“Come on, Dean,”

Dean glares at him. Castiel smirks.

Dean’s pushed up against the wall between two washing machines in no time, back slamming against the breeze blocks and knocking the wind out of him. He gasps, pressing his head against the wall as Castiel worms his hand inside the popper gaps and into his boxers.

His hands are cold. “Dammit Cas, warm your hands up.”

Castiel shrugs. “Maybe I like torturing you,” he says bluntly.

“I’ve noticed.”

Dean hears Castiel undoing the poppers on his jumpsuit. Slowly, one by one and he’s shimmied out of it with an unfortunate practiced ease.

“Should launder your shirt.” Before Dean has a chance to rebut the decision his shirt is pulled over his head roughly.

“Ah, fuck!” Dean tries to battle against Castiel but the man has a firm grip on him. “You fucker. I ain’t being thrown in solitary for you again, dude.” Castiel just shrugs.

Dean’s naked in the corner of the laundry room, being pressed up harshly against the rough breeze block, the uneven, prickly surface cutting into his skin. On one level it’s irritating and they should get back to their jobs, on the other, Dean’s cock is stood to attention and he’s more aroused that he cares to let on.

Hoisted up so his legs wrap around Castiel’s waist, back scraping against the wall, Dean feels Castiel’s cock poking at his entrance trying to gain access. Dean angles his hips to help and finally, albeit slow and uncomfortable, Castiel’s cock pushes in. He’s still relaxed and lightly slicked from the night before when Castiel took him on his bed. There’s definitely more oil involved for which Dean is grateful.

As Castiel pushes up, Dean’s back scrapes against the wall. His back is going to shred but now with Castiel’s dick up his ass and the man’s hands taking a firm and bruising hold on his ass, he doesn’t care.

The effort of the slip and slide on the wall of the steamy laundry room has them both sweating profusely. Dean groans and grunts, hissing as the grazes deepen on his back. Castiel surges forward, Dean rebuts his kiss and lets Castiel gasp again his neck. It sounds pained. Dean forgets about it moments later when a particularly well aimed thrust nails his prostate and he calls out. His shout is thankfully masked by the sound of the laundry machines.

Dean digs his nails into Castiel’s back as the pace roughens. It’s beginning to hurt, the lack of prep, awkward angle and exhaustion all hitting him at once.

“I’ve got you,” Castiel says unbidden. He doesn’t want to hear that from him. It’s too close. It’s not what’s supposed to have happened between them. The first time it was just anger and assertion of dominance in their small space—since then, it’s become... something else.

Dean feels himself rising to the edge, clenching down on Castiel to heighten the sensation inside of him. Castiel gasps and moans and it’s the most sound he’s heard from him while they have sex. Dean orgasms hard, cock bouncing with the thrusts, come spurting over his stomach.

Castiel’s pace slows as he comes towards his release. One hand comes around and presses against his chest, keeping him pinned awkwardly to the wall, and there’s blood—a lot of it coming from Castiel’s knuckles.  They must have been scraping against the wall. Castiel’s face is red as Dean watches his focus shift to the blood seeping down the back of his hand. Dean’s shocked and turned on at the same time.

He feels it then, Castiel’s release painting his insides. They both breathe heavily and Castiel slips out and sets Dean back down to the ground on shaky legs.

In a haze, Dean grabs his boxers and his jumpsuit and slips them over his legs, grimacing at the feeling of come inside him.

Castiel stares at his hands and turns to Dean. “Turn around.”

With the look Castiel gives him, steely eyed and brow raised, he does. Dean quivers.

There’s a hot breath on the back of his neck and that unyielding presence. Dean can feel _all_ of Castiel behind him.

The bell for end of work day shrills and throws them from their intimacy. Before Dean can pull away, finish getting dressed before someone catches them, Castiel’s hands take hold of his hips and a trail of hot air traipses between his injured shoulder blades. They’re beginning to sting. Sleeping will be a bitch, but he can’t help but feel frustration stirring in his gut when he knows it was Castiel who put them there.

“Break it up!” someone yells from behind. Dean spins round making sure he’s decent. One of the guards is stood in the door way, highly unimpressed with the sight of them.

“Hands behind your head. Do not move from where you are,” he warns. Dean grumbles lightly under his breath, cursing Castiel out.

A second guard comes in and they’re handcuffed and taken down the corridor. They let Dean replace his t-shirt and jumpsuit, both irritating against his new injuries, and they walk towards the dreaded cells again.

They’re lined up, cells next to each other, sound proof from the outside world

“Solitary confinement, three days for deviant behaviour when you’re supposed to have been working.” The guard announces on behalf of the prison warden.

The doors unlock behind them, Dean’s pushed through when he won’t go voluntarily.

“Fuck you, Castiel!” Dean yells. “Fuck. You.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this!
> 
> If you're interested, come and join me (and Hartless) and many others on the [Profound Bond Discord](https://discord.gg/UXJZyfR) chat!


End file.
